In His True Nature
by Heckled Hyena
Summary: Marie Booker is just trying to live her life as normally as humanly possible in Gotham City, but her shred of peace is tossed harshly out the window as an unexpected tragedy changes her life and she's pulled under a certain Lord of Chaos' anarchic shadow.
1. Chapter 1

"To be, or not to be. That is the question..." Marie's voice carried over the small audience as she recited the famous speech of Hamlet. She'd practiced tirelessly over and over again, memorizing every syllable of the soliloquy in order to gain Hamlet's role in the spring play for Gotham Academy. "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them?" the words poured from her with every bit of feeling she could muster. She eyed the judges, whose initial expressions of skepticism were now replaced by pure interest. They were impressed. In her mind Marie smirked. This role was hers.

As she ended her audition, Marie folded her arms in self pride as they deliberated silently with each other. They finally looked back to her, polite smiles on their faces. One old woman with a particularly large mole just beneath her bottom lip adjusted her rhinestone covered glasses as she prepared to speak.

"It was very nice, dear..." she said, and Marie's chocolate brown eyes twitched ever so slightly in annoyance. She hadn't lost hours of sleep for "very nice". Her performance was perfect, she made sure of that. What was going on here? "But..." the woman went on, and Marie froze, "...we still have one more audition for the role, so you'll have to wait a few moments before you know, alright?" Marie's shoulders slumped in relief, and she nodded before making her way off the stage to join her fellow candidates in the audience. The woman adjusted her glasses again as she looked to the list of people. "Last but not least, Timothy Wayne. You're up, dear." she said.

Marie watched as a black haired boy around her age stood up from his spot two seats away and made his way up to the stage. He coughed awkwardly and flashed a shy smile to the crowd. Marie rolled her eyes as she heard girls around her swoon at their crush as he began the same soliloquy. Teenagers...

His rendition wasn't bad. He missed a line in the middle, and he lost emotion toward the end in an attempt to choke out the final verse, but it was still better than the rest of Marie's competition. In the end, she gave him a 'B' for effort. When he was done, he was red-faced from mild embarrassment as he rejoined his friends in the audience, who clapped him on the back with wide smiles and harmless jokes. His eyes met with Marie's, and she gave him her own smile and a thumbs up before she turned back to await the judges' decisions.

The old woman finally stood from the Judge's Table and turned to the auditioners with a wide smile. "You all did wonderfully today!" she said. "Gotham Academy should be proud to have so many fine, talented students walking its hallowed halls! Sadly though, we can only chose one of you talented children to play the role as Hamlet. It was a tough decision, but here it is!" Marie sat up a little straighter as she awaited her name to be called. "Timothy Wayne, congratulations dear!" Marie froze in her seat as Tim's friends hooted and tousled his hair a few seats away.

What...the fuck...

"Good job Timmy!"

"Yeah, Tim-Bo, you're a right little star now!"

"Have fun in those tights, buddy!" Wayne's friends jeered at him as he slapped them away and fixed his hair. The girls around Marie swooned again as she continued to stare ahead in shock at her rejection.

"He's perfect!"

"He'll be so handsome as a prince!"

"He already is a prince!" they giggled as everyone stood from their seats and slowly filed out of the room, leaving Marie and the old woman behind. Her eyes finally blinked from the dryness and she jumped from her seat to stand before the woman.

"Why didn't I get the part, Mrs. Wilkins?" she asked. Mrs. Wilkins blinked and pushed up her glasses.

"Oh, Miss Booker, you startled me-"

"Why didn't I get the part?" Marie pressed. "I worked hard on that-"

"And your performance showed that, my dear." Mrs. Wilkins said, cutting her off as she gathered her papers from her desk. "But, Hamlet is a male role anyway, and Mr. Wayne showed much talent. The try-outs for Ophelia is tomorrow, why not try for that and we could have two wonderfully talented actors for the show! Doesn't that sound lovely?"

"But, I-"

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear!" Mrs. Wilkins smiled as she scurried out of the auditorium, leaving Marie alone, completely dumbstruck. She finally growled and kicked one of the cushioned red seats.

"Complete bullshit." she muttered, and slung her black backpack over her shoulder before storming out of the room as the bell rang to end the school day. She checked her pockets for her MP3 player, and remembered she'd left it in her bedroom that morning as she rushed to school. It would be a long walk home.

As she stepped out of the large double-doors that lead to the outside, she inhaled deeply, the smell of winter filling her. She buttoned her jacket and walked down the steps and turned left on the sidewalk in the direction of home, hoping that her mother would be home from work by the time she arrived. As an extra precaution, she walked a little slower. As she stepped Timothy Wayne walked by her with one of his friends toward an awaiting limo.

"Can't believe you went for that part, man." the friend said. Timothy nodded.

"I needed the extracurricular credits, so I took a shot at it. I honestly didn't think I'd make it, though. Barely even practiced..."

"Just lucky, I guess." his friend said. Marie watched as they got into the limo and it drove off, her hands clenched. She gritted her teeth and walked on, the temperature suddenly seeming to drop massively around her.

Gotham City got cold in winter. It would only be a few days before November would be upon them, and that meant snow was only a little farther away. Marie forced herself to enjoy the fifty-five degree weather while it lasted as she wrapped a purple and black scarf, her school colors, around her neck. She took in the sight of the many shops and buildings as she walked eyeing the Halloween decor a bit warily. Halloween was two days away.

"Great..." she muttered, remembering a certain crazy that was especially active during the spooky holiday. The Scarecrow was known to participate in the activities on Halloween night, and Marie couldn't understand why families still allowed their children to dress up and go out by themselves and hunt for candy. In fact, she couldn't believe why people stayed out too late at all on any day, with all the insanity that lurked in the shadows. She resolved that the only people crazier than the criminals in this city were the people that put up with them on a daily basis, all just to be able to say that they lived in the richest city in the world. If she could afford it, she would have moved herself and her mother out of Gotham years ago. To hell with the glitz of the Gotham lifestyle. She just wanted to wake up one day without having to read "Inmate Escapes" as the headline in her local newspaper. She scoffed as she thought how with all this city's money, they couldn't upgrade that damned asylum well enough to keep it from being a revolving door.

"Que sera sera, I suppose..." she said to herself as she took a left onto her street. It was a shady place, away from the bustle of the city and just outside the Narrows. Weeds grew high in unkempt yards, and stray cats lurked in random trashcans that were knocked to the ground. She glanced at people as they checked out the window to see who was walking by their yards, most likely making sure she wasn't the police. The neighbors were the reason why she had bought extra locks to put on her front door a year ago. Her mother said she was too paranoid. She thought her mother was too trusting. Once she reached her house, a little thing with two stories that was sandwiched between two other dilapidated homes, she took out her small ring of keys and slowly unlocked her door before stepping in and locking it all over again.

"Mom?" she called out as she hung her backpack on the awaiting hook in the hallway. She removed her coat and scarf and hung them over her backpack. "Mom?" she called again.

"Oh! Hey! In the kitchen!" a woman's quick, high voice called from down the hallway. "Just in time! Come help me!" Marie rolled her eyes and walked down the hall into the cramped white kitchen where her mother awaited her.

"What did you break, burn, or short-circuit this time?" she asked.

"Actually," her mother answered, one hand held to her chest as another rummaged frantically through a drawer. "I cut my hand with the steak knife and I can't find the first aid kit..." she said, the yellow curls of her hair bouncing as she spun her head every wich way as she frantically searched for the kit.

"Under the sink, where it's been since we moved here." Marie said, sitting down at the kitchen table. She'd long grown used to her mother accidentally hurting herself as she battled ordinary appliances and utensils. She was the reason blondes were given a bad name. The stereotypical ditz, at it again.

"Oh, yes! Of course!" her mother said, and she ripped open the cabinet under the sink and removed the little white box that awaited her. "Can you help me?" she asked, bringing the box to Marie.

"No. Suffer." Marie muttered, and looked away from her mother, who looked heartbroken.

"Nooo, Marie! You know I can't look at blood without passing out."

"Then don't use sharp objects."

"But how will I cut the steak?"

"Use a fork."

"This isn't funny!"

"That's a matter of opinion." Marie smirked as her mother attempted to come up with a come-back. She finally sighed and took the box from her and opened it, removing the gauze. "Give me your hand." she said, and her mother nodded as she closed her eyes and held her hand out for Marie to see. It was a small cut, barely any blood. Nothing to freak out about. Marie tisked at her mother's inability to handle something as small as this and quickly wrapped her hand up and tied it tight. "There. All done." she said. Her mother smiled as she opened her eyes and viewed her daughter's handiwork.

"I don't know how I survived before I had you." she said.

"Neither do I." Marie said back, and her mother bopped her on the arm lightly.

"Is that any way to talk to the woman who is making your favorite meal tonight?" she asked. Marie's eyes lit up.

"Fajitas?" she asked, and her mom nodded, smiling.

"Hence the steak." she said.

"What's the occasion?" Marie asked.

"Well, it's a congrats for you on getting that part in the play! You worked so hard on it!" she said, going back to the raw steak she was cutting earlier. Marie swallowed, and looked down at the linoleum floor, wich was cracked in several places and yellowed from age.

"About that..." she said. "I didn't get the part. They gave the part to the Wayne kid, not me." she said. Her mother spun around then, shocked.

"But you were so perfect! Did he do well, too?"

"No...he barely even practiced for it." Marie said. Her mother frowned, and turned back to the steak.

"Well, he probably got it because of the donations Bruce Wayne makes to the school every year..."

"That's not fair." Marie mumbled, and rested her chin on the table top, depression waving over her.

"Life normally isn't..." her mother said, and Marie looked to her as she cut the steak into small strips. Of course she would know how unfair life could be, having being ditched by her highschool sweetheart once she'd become pregnant with Marie at the young age of seventeen. Marie was fourteen, and her mother was only thirty-one, soon to be thirty-two in December, and she was still working double shifts at the local grocery store to keep them both warm at night. What else could a woman who never finished highschool do? If Marie hadn't gotten a scholarship to attend Gotham Academy because she was considered "gifted", she'd still be attending the tiny run down school near the Narrows. She never would have been able to afford the academy on her mother's money. She remembered the day her mother received the letter requesting Marie's attendance to the academy, and smirked as she remembered the blonde woman bawling her eyes out and kissing her young and confused daughter all over her fac before even explaining what had happened. Considering all that, Marie had a pretty fair life, what with her loving mother and respectable education. There would always be more plays. Marie straightened herself up and forced a smile.

"It's whatever, you know?" she said, and hopped up to help her mother with the food. "At least it's not snowing yet."

"That's the spirit!" her mother said, accidentally flailing the knife in her hand around in her spurt of excitement, nearly slicing off one of Marie's long locks.

"Put the damn knife down before you kill one of us!" Marie said, stepping back before her mother could cause another 'accident'.

"Language, young lady!" her mother said, but did as she was told. Marie shook her head and changed the subject, and the night went on as normally as the two could make it, the harsh cold of the city and it's people locked outside.

Elsewhere in Gotham, at the very top of Wayne Tower, a figure lounged on an aged gargoyle. His thick black hair tousled as the cold wind swept over his face. An orange cat perched on his lap, its golden eyes staring expectantly into his black ones. He sighed, and stretched.

'"I'm bored..."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Marie walked to the academy bright and early, as she did every day, with her headphones in and her only comrade from her home street by her side. She stared blankly forward, her mind in a morning fuzz as the music playing in her ears slowly woke her up more and more, each song's tempo rising a bit as the play list continued. Music was her way of escape from everything, and it usually decided what mood she would be in each day. If her player wasn't charged or she forgot it at home, she would not be feeling too cheerful until her means of listening to her many melodies was returned to her. Her MP3 was filled with a cornucopia of genres to listen to, from the oldest of classical music to the newest of rock and roll. She couldn't choose a favorite, believing that each genre had its own wonderful mixture of talent and sounds to provide her, and she often loved to lose herself in the melodies as they drifted into her ears through her headphones. And now she was enjoying a pleasant, mind-numbing stroll to school with Bob Seger playing, keeping her calm and relaxed.

A hand suddenly appearing in front of her face caused her to blink and return to reality. Her friend, an eleven year old boy with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, waved his hand in front of her to grasp her attention. She removed her headphones and looked down to him questioningly.

"What is it, Thomas?" she asked. Thomas pointed to their left, and Marie looked to see they were in front of the academy gates.

"You're real out of it today, aren't ya?" he asked. "We passed the entrance and everythin'." He flicked at her headphone cord. "That fancy-shmancy music player you got there makes you all out of sorts. You probly wouldn't notice a truck racin' at ya..." Marie stuck her tongue out at him and wrapped the headphones around her MP3 before putting it away in her jacket pocket.

"Jealousy much, Tommy?" she asked. He crossed his arms and sniffed at the sound of her nickname for him. He much preferred being called by his proper name.

"Nah. Don't need nuthin' all techy like that to enjoy myself. I go outside." he eyed her uniform. "Bet ya can't climb a tree in that get-up." he smirked, and patted his hand-me-down clothes that were a tad bit too big on his small frame. "I can climb trees all day in this."

"You can also go to school in that and learn something." Marie said. He huffed.

"School's for smart people. I can be dumb and still be a mechanic." he said, and smiled wide as he thought of himself in a coverall outfit covered in oil. "Can't wait." he said, and pointed to the academy. "You guys can keep your degrees and your PhD's and whatever you get. I'm gonna live practical. Dad's teachin' me everything I need to be a real professional, and one day I'll have my own shop." Marie smiled at his expression of his ambition. Sometimes she forgot that he was only eleven, the way he talked sometimes about owning his own mechanic shop. He picked up a small twig and ran it over the spokes of the gate, making a click-click-click noise as he went. "So..." he said as he

continued. "It's Friday, right?" he said, and she rolled her eyes. Every week he asked the same question.

"Yes, I'll be able to hang out this weekend with you." she said.

"No homework?" he asked.

"No homework."

"Good." he said, flashing a small smile before straightening up and feigning indifference. "Not that I really care or anything..." he muttered, and turned to head back for home. "See you later, smarty-pants." he called before beginning to run, still smacking his twig over the spokes as he went. Marie smirked at him as he rounded the corner and out of sight before heading onto the grounds of the academy.

Once through the gates, she kept her gaze down at the rich green lawn, not allowing herself to make eye-contact with anyone. To the students of the academy, she was considered a street rat, who was unworthy of breathing the same air as them because of her low social status and funds, and she was often called names as she passed some particularly rude classmates. People avoided her in the hallways, giving her a wide berth as she walked, which only pointed out further how alone in this school she was. She could handle this, though, and didn't mind at all the space she was given from them. She could ignore the jeers, the snide comments, so long as they never actually went up to her and shoved her, and why would they do that? They'd only dirty their rich hands on her commoner's skin. Yes, it was relatively simple to survive in a rich person's world. All she had to do was keep to herself, and she was always just fine at the end of the day. That was how it was every day since first coming here.

At least, until today.

As Marie neared the building that lead to her homeroom class, she was blocked by a girl with incredibly blonde hair and large brown eyes. Her skin would have been lovely had it not been caked in make-up, and Marie noticed her uniform skirt was much shorter than standards allowed. She must have had it tailored to her liking. Marie looked back up to the girl's face. She couldn't recognize her. She must have been new.

The girl smacked some gum as she regarded Marie, and sneered.

"So you're the poor girl, hum?" she asked, her voice nasally. Marie nodded robotically.

"That's me." she said. "And you are?"

"Sandra Keuling. The pleasure is yours, I'm sure." she said. Marie fought to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head.

"Yeah...all mine. If you'll excuse me, I need to get to class." Marie said, and attempted to walk around the girl, but Sandra held her arm up.

"I'm not done talking, poor girl." she said. "How rude. But you wouldn't know much about manners, would you?" she said.

"My lack of proper funds doesn't indicate whether or not I have manners." Marie muttered.

"Look at you, talking all smart." Sandra said, and Marie blinked at the girl's dullness. "They say that's how you got in here in the first place, not that you could have gotten in any other way."

"Do you need something from me?" Marie asked, her irritation growing steadily higher.

"I'm here to make an offer." Sandra said. Marie frowned. She wasn't expecting that.

"What kind of offer?" she aked with suspicion.

"Stop interrupting and I'll tell you..." Sandra said, sounding offended and even irritated with Marie, who gave it her all to not slap the bitch and walk away. "I would like to offer you money, which you will of course work for. I'll pay you four hundred dollars every Friday if you simply do my homework and make sure my grades stay in the A-B area. You can start today after school. I'll meet you at the gate, sound good?"

"No." Marie said flatly, and watched amusedly as Sandra's face twisted into something which showed that answer was not the one she was expecting.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I said, no. N-O. That's it." Marie said. "You honestly believe that because I'm poor I'll jump at anything that'll make me a scrap of cash? I'm not some beggar-child looking for a dime. I'm a student looking for an education. I don't need your money. Do your own homework."

"You think you can speak to me like that?" Sandra said, astonished by Marie's tone.

"And what exactly makes you better than me?" Marie asked. "I got in here because the representatives of this school noticed my academic talents. You got in here because your daddy's wallet is full. The only difference between you and me is I earned my way into this school. All you have is a fat mouth and a Coach bag. I'd choose my brain over that any day." by that time, people had stopped walking by and stood around the two girls, dumbstruck as they heard Marie the Poor Girl talk down to one of them. They all looked to Sandra, her face contorted in rage and shock at Marie's harsh words. She'd never even been spoken to like that by her own family, especially not by some street girl. She clicked her finely manicured fingernails as she seethed.

"You called me dumb. I could make your life very difficult here, street rat..." she hissed.

"And I could rip out those extensions." Marie said, eyeing her blonde hair. "I hear those are pretty expensive."

"You wouldn't dare.." Sandra stepped forward, her black heels clicking on the sidewalk until she was inches from Marie. The heels added at least three inches, and Marie had to look up to see Sandra's livid face. She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"I dunno. We street rats can be pretty wild. Watch out. I might have rabies." she said, and gave the creepiest smile she could muster, snickering when Sandra took an uncertain step backward. At that, Marie believed she had won the small battle of words, but Sandra sadly mustered some stubborn courage and stapped closer to Marie than before.

"You're a freak!" Sandra said, poking her hard in the arm. "A disrespectful freak!" A sudden fire sparked in Marie's eyes, and Sandra noticed it, a small voice in the back of her mind telling her that she shouldn't have done that. Marie felt her hand clench into a fist then, and knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from punching Sandra. She began to raise her arm, but a hand quickly reached out and brought it back down again. Her hateful glare shot over to see Timothy Wayne holding her arm down, a small smile of reassurance written on his face as he looked back at her.

"Hey." he said, looking over to Sandra. "Let's not fight, alright? It's Friday, the weekend is coming up. Let's try to just get along through the day, 'kay?" he said. Sandra looked flustered as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear shyly.

"Y-yeah, okay Timmy." she said, but pointed at Marie. "Just watch it next time you talk to me. You're lucky Tim Wayne is so nice to you people." she walked away then, adding a little more sway to her step, something Marie believed she'd done to please the Wayne kid, who she noticed was still holding her arm. She shook him loose and folded her arms over her chest, staring angrily at the ground.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked. She nodded once, but said nothing. He smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Some people are just hard to get along with." he said. Marie nodded again, glancing at him. He seemed kind of nice."I mean," he went on, "...it must be especially hard for you, being so different from the rest of us-"

"What?" she asked, interrupting him. He held his hands up.

"I didn't mean any offence-"

"You said the 'rest of _us'_." she said in disbelief. "Really?" her anger was rising again. "I remember you, Timothy Wayne." she said, pointing at him. "Or should I say Timothy _Drake_? We went to the same damn little shit middle school out by the Narrows when we were kids. You sat in the same run-down classroom as I did, reading the same torn-up school books as me!" his mouth dropped open then, caught completely by surprise by her comment. "One day you just happened to go missing, and the next week we see your smug face plastered on the front of the Gotham Times, 'New Member of the Wayne Family' written in bold ink. You must of felt pretty damn good about yourself, huh?" she said. "And now, here you are, with your tailored uniform and slicked back hair, not a care in the world, talking like you were always upper class, acting like you never woke up one morning wondering if your old man is still out with his drinking buddies or lying in a ditch somewhere in his own vomit." Tim's eyes darkened then, and Marie wondered if she went to far talking about his father like that. In the Narrows, everyone knew Tim's father, either through rumor or personal acquaintance. He was a gambler, a thief, and known to often go missing for weeks on some errand for bad people. Needless to say, he was also known for his lack of parenting, and people often wondered if Tim would follow his footsteps. But the sudden adoption by the richest man alive drove them to surprise, and even relief. Marie suspected that he held a grudge against his father, and didn't enjoy speaking about him, but she shook it off. She was too irritated with these people today to really care about what they thought.

"That was uncalled for..." he muttered.

"Then next time, remember where you came from before talking down to me so freely. Now if you'll excuse me, your crowd has nearly made me late for class. Unlike all of you, I have to work to stay in this school." she said, and shoved by him to finally reach the building and open the door, slamming it behind her as soon as she entered.

Tim flinched a little at the sound of the door slamming, and frowned at the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. Her verbal blows hit pretty low under the belt, an he couldn't help feeling wounded. Had she really attended class with him? He couldn't recall. In truth, he never liked to remember his life before the one he lived now. He remembered her words. 'Remember where you came from before talking down to me'. Had he really talked down to her? Thinking back, he remembered being in a similar situation, thinking all rich people were cruel as he watched them pass him in their diamonds and furs, not paying him a second glance as they strolled on the streets to their dinner reservations while he planned to steal his next meal.

"Whoah, that's an intense stare, Tim." one of his friends said, walking up to him and noticing his hard gaze at the cement. "Trying to burn a hole into the sidewalk or something?" he asked. Tim looked up to him and forced a smile.

"Nah, I was just thinking about that Booker girl." he said. His friend quirked a brow.

"The poor chick?" he asked, and scoffed. "I saw you talking to her. Was she being a bitch? She seems like one." Tim's jaw set at the comment.

"No, it's not that-"

"Then what'cha worrying about?" he asked. "If she said something to you, then she's just jealous that she doesn't have any friends. Let her bitch all she wants. It's not like her opinion matters anyway." he said. Tim blinked, and looked directly at this guy talking to him. Did he really hang out with these people? Was this what Marie saw when she looked at him? What was this guy's name again?

"I'm...gonna go..." he muttered, beginning to walk away.

"Wait, where are you going?!" his friend called.

"Somewhere where I can seriously reevaluate my life..."

...

The next Monday, Marie was leaving school moments after the bell rang. Her headphones were already in her ears, and she was deciding what she would listen to on her way home, when a black limo pulled over next to her. She stopped, and watched the back window roll down to reveal Tim Wayne's face smiling at her from behind a pair of RayBan sunglasses.

"Need a ride home?" he asked. She knitted her eyebrows together and shook her head.

"No. I'm perfectly fine walking, thanks." she said bitterly. Tim nodded, ignoring her tone.

"Fine, then I'll walk you." he said, moving to get out of the car.

"_No_." Marie said before he could open his door. "I don't want your company, either." she said.

"That's something you'll need to get over." Tim said. "Either way, I'm taking you home." he grinned at her frown.

"Then I hope you like knuckle sandwiches..." she muttered.

"Love 'em." he said. Her silence was all that was needed to express her agitation, and he sighed. "Look, if you let me give you a ride home, then you'll just have to spend a few minutes with me. If we walk, then it's at least half an hour. Which sounds better?" he asked.

"You're serious..." she said, almost amused at his boldness.

"As the Riddler is with his puzzles." Tim said. Marie cocked her head to the side at the odd use of simile, but finally huffed and opened the door to the limo. Tim slid over to give her space, and she climbed in. "Alfred knows mostly where to go." Tim said when the limo moved forward. "But you might need to help us later on with directions."

"That's fine." she said, buckling her seatbelt. "What's the point of this?" she asked. "Picking up someone like me in your fancy limo right in front of school is sure to damage your reputation..." Tim pushed the comment aside and gave a small smile.

"I thought about what you said Friday. You were right, so I thought I'd make it up to you."

"Oh, so you felt sorry for me." she mused. "That'll be a good excuse when you explain yourself tomorrow." she said. "Don't worry, I forgive you. Tomorrow you won't have to do me any favors. You can go back to your clique of rich-boys as soon as I'm dropped o-"

"You wanna study together sometime?" Tim asked, interrupting her and taking her completely off guard. Her eyes widened.

"Wh-what?" she asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime." Tim repeated. "You can come to my place and have dinner with me and Bruce and Alfred. It'll be fun." Marie's blinking became rapid as she tried to process this. What the hell was this kid trying at? Was this going to end like that Carrie movie, or something?

"Now I don't know whether or not you feel sorry for me or are trying to get into my pants..." she said, and Tim burst out laughing. Up front, the one called Alfred harrumphed at her comment.

"I don't feel sorry for you, and I'm definitely not trying to do the other thing." Tim said. "I'm just trying to be friendly. I'd like for us to be friends. Honest. After our conversation, I took a hard look at the people I associated with, and thought 'wow, I know a lot of pricks', y'know?" he said. "I used to throw rocks at people like them and run away back when I was a kid."

"I still do, time to time..." Marie joked before she could stop herself. Tim smiled.

"So, yeah?" he asked. Marie shrugged.

"I guess so..." she said. "You got one chance to prove you're not a complete ass, no pressure."

"None at all." he said. "How about tomorrow?" he asked. Marie stopped, and shook her head.

"No, not tomorrow." she said warily. "I...have somewhere to be. How about Thursday? That'll give me time to calm my mother down about finally going to a friends house." she said.

"So we're friends now?" Tim asked, grinning. Marie smirked.

"Don't push it..."

...

The next night, Marie walked down an old street, the hood of her jacket up over her head to hide her face. The Narrows wasn't a good place to have your face seen by anyone. Every few minutes, she turned to see if anyone was following her. She only ever saw a few drunks this time around. Maybe it would be an easy night. She didn't dare get her hopes up...

Once she reached her destination, she looked up at the condemned apartment building. Rotting boards covered or hung from the windows, and weeds and moss grew high against the old brick walls. The entrance door was kicked in. Marie rolled her eyes. The people she worked with were never subtle.

She carefully stepped in and looked around. A dim light shined from the kitchen area, and Marie heard voices mumbling to each other. She walked towards the light, dodging the torn up floor-boards and rusted nails. Before entering, she knocked on the wall by the entrance. The voices stopped.

"Who'se it?" a gruff voice asked, naturally suspicious.

"Pizza man..." she said sarcastically, and the voices sighed in relief.

"Quite yer jokin', Booker, and git the fuck in here." the second voice said. She walked in to see two large men sitting at a small table, playing cards to pass the time.

"Where's the others?" she asked. There should have been way more people, at least fifteen. Tonight would be a relatively big job.

"They're out getting the trucks. We got stuck guarding the cargo."

"_He's _not here yet, is he?" she asked, taking a seat next to the larger of the two. His name was Joe, or that was what he called himself. The smaller one was Mickey. Joe rolled his beady eyes before looking to his cards.

"Fashionably late, as always." he mumbled. Marie rest her elbows on the table, making it creak.

"As always..." she said.

"I ain't never heard of a host being late to his own party..." someone said in the dark, and Joe and Mickey instantly grabbed their guns from the back of their pants to point them where the voice came from. A figure walked forward into the dim light, and they brought their guns back down, relieved.

"Hey, boss." Mickey said. The figure nodded, and shot a look at Marie, who had caught herself staring. She looked away. No matter how many times she saw him, she couldn't help but stare.

And the Black Mask never liked to be stared at...


	3. Chapter 3

At night, much of Gotham City became quite beautiful, even a tad enchanting depending on where you were viewing the city from. Even so late at night, the lights continued to glimmer with the promise of parties and the like for any carefree night owl. But one would notice, if they traveled away from the commotion, that the glimmering, warm lights would become dull and foreboding. The lights would become signs that someone has wandered far away from where they wanted to be, and that they should soon turn back, if not immediately.

That was where Marie was currently. She stared at the dim, orange tinted street lamps as she and Black Mask were being driven to a meeting place where they would be doing business with an associate of his. A leather satchel rested on her lap, filled with papers and math work that she was assigned to keep organized and up-to-date as she and her boss made new deals with anyone. She made sure that all the numbers added up when it came to these deals. If there was anything that Black Mask hated more than being stared at, it was being screwed over and made out to be an idiot. Marie kept that from happening. And so far she was doing pretty well. At least, she thought she was. She wasn't dead yet, was she? But this was about to be over. Her last deal. She looked over to Black Mask.

"After this, sir..." she said, gaining his attention. "After this, I'll get the money I need, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah." he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You'll get your cut, then you're free to go. Focus on your job first, before even thinking about getting your money though, got it? I don't want any fuck-ups..."

"Yes, sir." Marie said, and looked back out the window. Black Mask narrowed his eyes a bit as he regarded her.

"Ten grand is a lot of money, small fry." he said. "What'll someone young as you do with that kinda dough..." he asked. Marie gripped her satchel.

"Move me and my mom out of this city. I'll get us a small apartment someplace." she said.

"Ain't you attendin' that academy or some shit?" Mask asked.

"I'll take a bus, or buy a bike. I'll make it work." she said.

"Anything to get the fuck outta here, eh?" he asked, and she nodded. "What happens when your old lady asks where you got the money?"

"I'll be straight with her." Marie answered. "She'll be pissed, but...she'll see...this is all for the best..." Mask nodded, and crossed his armed over his chest.

"You're a smart kid, Booker..." he said. "Been workin' for this day for a while. When you first walked up to me in that bar a year ago demandin' to make a deal with me, I nearly shot you between the eyes. I won't lie, I'm glad I didn't. One year's worth of work for ten grand. You got a lot of work done for me. You earned the money your about to make, unlike the rest of this trash I hire..." he said. "I'll miss ya a little when you're gone..." he scratched his neck lightly, and Marie looked at him.

"Wh-"

"We're here." the driver's voice said, stopping her from speaking. The car came to a halt, and she and Black Mask climbed out of the vehicle. Four trucks stopped behind them, each filled with whatever whoever they were dealing with was wanting. Marie didn't know, and didn't care to. She just added up the numbers and matched them up. That's as far as she ever wanted to get into these dealings.

"Where the fuck is this guy?" Black Mask asked after surveying the area, a dingy little storage unit area that nobody used. A perfect spot for a deal like this.

"Over there." Marie pointed to a silver car with tinted windows as it rounded a corner and into sight. It stopped in front of her and Black Mask, and the back seat rolled down to reveal an aged man with gray hair wearing an armani suit.

"Got my order?" he asked as he stepped out of the car with a large suitcase in hand.

"Money first, _friend._" Mask said. The old man smirked, and held the suitcase up. Black Mask nodded for Marie to take it, and she did as instructed, setting it down on the ground and opening it before removing some papers from her satchel. The old man gave a short laugh.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked.

"She'll determine your trustworthiness..." Mask said, pointing to Marie.

"She's just a _kid._.."

"Well," Marie said, looking up to him with a small, polite smile, "this _kid _just figured out you're twenty grand short. Where's the rest of the cash?" she asked. Mask pulled out his nine millimeter and pointed it at the old man, whose hands shot up quickly to the air.

"That's a good fucking question." Mask said. "You should answer pretty fucking quick..."

"I-I swear, I-" the old man was sweating now, looking around wildly. Marie noticed this, and began scanning the are suspiciously. Something wasn't right about this. Usually there was much more than one guy picking up the goods, and they weren't usually in their mid-sixties.

"Quit the stuttering and tell me where my fucking money is." Mask said, readying the gun to fire when the old man failed to produce an excuse. Marie checked the money again, more closely this time. She picked up a bill and held it up against the dim light. There was no watermark. Her heart dropped.

"This is fake." she said, and Mask looked at her.

"What?!" he asked angrily. She stood from her spot, still looking around, her suspicion growing.

"There's no watermark on these. They're fake. This is a set-up." she said quickly. She reached over to the old man and ripped open his shirt. There was a wire. She would have laughed at how cliche it was, but she was too busy trying to keep from panicking. "We really need to get out of here-"

"I don't think so..." a deep voice rumbled, seeming to have come from everywhere at once. Marie froze at the sound of it, fear taking hold of her. Something suddenly sliced through the air and knocked Mask's gun out of his hand, leaving a bloody gash. Marie watched the batarang fall to the asphalt with a clatter, and she swallowed hard. The sound of another, and Mask pulled her in front of him as the second batarang whizzed toward him. Marie cried out as it stuck into her arm. Damn that hurt. Mask shoved her and ran for his car, cursing as he went, and Marie watched as a large dark figure landed right in front of him, blocking his path.

"Shoot him, you sons of bitches! Shoot!" Mask shouted at his men in their trucks, and gunshots were fired immediately afterward, peppering the area where Batman stood. He dodged them. Marie never remembered seeing someone move so quickly. A dull pain brought her attention back to her arm. The batarang was still stuck into it, and she touched it gingerly. That alone made her want to vomit from the resulting pain that pulsed through her. Her tear-filled eyes found their way to Mask, who hid behind his car as Batman continued to dodge the bullets flying his way. She cursed, wishing she could leave him to be sent to prison. He'd used her as a shield, for fucks sakes. But if he was taken now, all of her work would have been for naught. She couldn't have that. Not when she was so close.

She stood, her legs shaking from fear and shock and pain, but she kept herself steady as she forced herself to move over to where Mask hid. She grabbed his arm, and, keeping her eyes on Batman to make sure he was still busy with the lackeys firing at him, lead Mask quietly away behind some storage units. Once they were out of sight, she pointed towards a fence that blocked off a wooded area. Mask nodded and they both ran. Marie somehow managed to hop the fence with only her feet and good arm, and she followed Mask until the sound of guns firing faded away. Once they were certain they were safe, they stopped, sucking in air. Marie's head felt light. And she looked back at the batarang. She gritted her teeth, and grabbed it, pulling it quickly out of her and throwing it down. She coughed at the overwhelming pain, and sucked air through her grinding teeth, trying to keep herself from crying. The pain eventually dulled out, and she was able to breath relatively normally as she caught sight of her boss, who was making a phone call to have himself picked up.

"I'm in some damn woods near the meeting spot, you fucking idiot! Find me! And make sure the Bat stays off your asses!" He shouted into the cellular, and snapped it shut before placing it into his pants pocket. He looked at Marie. "Good thing you checked those dollars before it was too late, kid. Nice job." he said. "Too bad you won't be working for me anymore. Your attention to detail is a skill not found in many people...it's a damn shame..." with that, he reached into his jacket and brought out a small gun, pointing it at her. She froze.

"The hell are you doing?" she asked. His eyes gave a look of false pity.

"You're a smart kid, Booker. I'm sure you can figure it out, but I'll tell you, since you're kind of too damaged to think right now." he said, cocking the gun. "You know too much for me to just let you go, kiddo. You have a lot of information that the GCPD would just love to get their grubby-ass hands on, and I can't have you just walking around with the possibility of caving and outing my operations. It's unprofessional."

"You son of a bitch..." Marie muttered, the betrayal sinking in. "You were planning this from day one, weren't you?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I honestly never thought you'd last this long. I planned to kill you as soon as your first fuck-up. But surprise, you turned out to be too good a worker. You were squared away with everything." he said. "I'll miss ya, kid. Maybe I'll send some cash to your old lady, for your good work. But you...can't do it. Sorry." he said. Marie huffed a laugh.

"I'm a complete idiot..." she muttered.

"I'll give you a second to say whatever you need to whatever god you believe in." Mask said. "I'll give you that decency."

"I don't believe in God..." Marie said, staring right at him. He shrugged again with indifference.

"Whatever. Any last requests?"

"Just not in the face." she said, smirking. He nodded.

"I can do that..." he pulled the trigger then, firing three shots into her chest. Her body stilled, and he sniffed as he cased his gun. Minutes later, two of his workers appears from the woods. They caught sight of Marie, their eyes widening, not daring to question what happened for fear they'd join her. "Let's go." Mask said, walking toward the direction of the vehicle waiting for him, and they followed obediently.

An hour after they left, Marie's eyes shot open, and she sat up. Her chest hurt, and she looked down at the holes in her sweatshirt. She pulled it off of her and inspected the bullet-proof vest, where three bullets were embedded, flattened from the impact. She pulled them off of her and threw them away before putting her jacket back on, pulling the hood back up over her head. Hopefully Batman hadn't seen her face under the hood.

She stood up carefully, using a tree for support. She had been stabbed, shot at, and was without the money she'd worked an entire year for.

Marie Booker was pissed.

"That masked bastard..." she seethed. She'd had a suspicion that he'd try to kill her, hence the vest, but since she'd made it this far, she was actually beginning to believe he'd go through with the deal they made. It was a mistake on her part, trusting a king of the Gotham underbelly. He lead her along, and disposed of her. Typical. And now she was hurt, and penniless, a year of her life gone, thrown away because of her naivety. And it was all her fault. She should never have walked into that damn bar. It was all over, and now all she could do was limp home, broken in more ways than one.

A tear ran down her face as she began her long treck home, and she wiped it away. Life wasn't fair. It was something she'd have to get used to as she realized she wouldn't be leaving this wretched city for a long time.

...

Once home, it was nearly six in the morning. She unlocked the door and stumbled in, making her way to the kitchen, where she retrieved the medical kit to get to work fixing her arm. As soon as she sat down, her mother walked in, worry and tears on her lovely face. She saw the gash in Marie's arm, and the holes in her sweatshirt.

"Oh my god!" she ran over and embraced Marie. "_Oh my god_, what happened to you?! What happened, Marie? Who did this to you?!" she was sobbing, her fresh tears falling on Marie's face. Marie gently pushed her away, and sighed.

"This..." she indicated the gash. "This was from Batman..." she said quietly. A look of shock and confusion lit her mother's face.

"But...he's supposed to-"

"And this..." Marie pointed to the bullet holes. "Is from Black Mask...my former boss." Her mother paled, and she sat roughly down in a chair beside Marie.

"Boss?" she whispered. Marie nodded.

"We had an agreement..." she said. "One year of work for ten thousand dollars. Tonight was my last night. Instead of paying me, he shot me. The fucker shot me..." Marie took off her sweatshirt to show the vest. "But he didn't kill me." She unstrapped the vest and dropped it to the floor.

"Why?" her mother asked. "Why would you do that?" The tone in her voice hurt Marie. There was so much pain in it.

"The money was supposed to get us out of here!" she said in an attempt to reason. "We were supposed to leave this shit-hole city! I wanted to get us out! Get _you_ out! We were supposed to go somewhere nice, where we could wake up without being afraid all the time! We...we were..." Marie's eyes were wide as she stared down at the table. Her vision was blurring, and she hated how she thought she looked like a small child. Helpless. Her mother's hand found Marie's long black hair, and she patted her head lovingly.

"Marie..." she said quietly. "I understand what you want, but you're so young. You only know this city. No matter where we go, there will always be bad things. You'll learn someday that there isn't this utopia where everything goes right. It's not the way of the world. It's completely chaotic. Cruelty will follow you, even if you were able to travel halfway around the world. You have to learn to live with the bad things that plague our lives, sweetie."

"So we should just ignore it like the rest of these people?" Marie asked.

"No, don't ignore it. Ignorance is what cowards practice. You learn to live with it, to accept it as part of your life. Only then will you be able to focus on the good things around you."

"There's nothing good in this place..." Marie muttered, and her mother leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her.

"You have me, don't you?" she asked. "And I have you. That's all I need to get through my day, seeing your face. You make me happy enough to smile and get through all the muck..." Marie listened to her mother say softly.

"I'm a horrible child..." Marie said. "I tried to make you happy, but all I did was make you cry."

"No, no...I was just worried for you. You're here now, that's all that matters to me. I don't need money, I just need you, okay?" her mother puled back and looked Marie in the eyes. "So no more of this. No more putting yourself in danger. I couldn't bare it if I had to bury you, do you hear me?" more tears fell down her face as she spoke. Marie nodded, and her mother squeezed her. "Now please, let's forget this night."

"Mom, my arm..." Marie mumbled, and her mother quickly let her go. She eyed the blood on Marie's arm.

"Do you...need help with that?" she muttered, and Marie noticed her sway slightly at the sight of it, and smirked.

"No, I got it. You'd just pass out anyway. I'll take care of this. It's my mess anyway."

"O-okay...if you're sure." her mother said, a hint of relief in her voice.

"I'm sure, mom." Marie opened the medical kit and pulled out a suture and thread. This would be hell to get through. "Why don't you make some coffee and put some music on? I'll need something to distract me from the pain I'm about to experience..."


	4. Chapter 4

_"She is like a cat in the dark, and then, she is the darkness..." _

Marie hummed along to the old Fleetwood Mac song as she walked to school on Thursday morning. "Rhiannon" was her favorite song by them, and she especially loved its calming effect on her. She needed it, as this was her first day since that Monday night that she'd ventured out of her home. She didn't know what she would do if Mask or one of his cronies caught sight of her. They'd probably shoot her on sight. She fingered her black hair, still unfamiliar with it's now much shorter length. Her hair once reached her elbow, and now its ends barely brushed her shoulder. She needed to do at least something to alter her appearance, and plastic surgery was out of the picture, for multiple reasons. Her mother almost didn't allow her to go to school, afraid that Marie wouldn't come home this time, but Marie calmed her, telling her she'd be with the Waynes that night, and that she'd be driven home. It calmed her mother a little, at least enough to let the girl go to school. But now, as she was outside, Marie realized she had her own nerves to keep calm. She was supposed to be dead, after all. She needed to lay low for a while, and only go to school and straight home.

_"She rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her-"_

"Hey!" Marie said, startled as someone plucked one of her headphones out of her ear. She turned to see Timothy Wayne placing the bud in his own ear with mild curiosity.

"You're into that hippy music, huh? Cool, never would have guessed." he said, smiling. She grunted and took her headphone back. Looking behind them, she saw a black limo driving away. He must have had the driver stop and let him walk with her. Weird.

"I like all sorts of music, thank you." she said, remembering what he said. "This song just chills me out, is all."

"Why the need to chill out? It's cold enough out here as it is." Tim said. Marie glanced to the ground.

"Just been...a rough few days is all..." she said.

"Yeah, I noticed you weren't at school these last few days. Something bad happen?"

"No!" Marie said too quickly, making his brows rise. She coughed, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I mean, no, nothing bad happened. I just kind of hurt myself the other day."

"Really?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Well, it appears I inherited some of my mother's ditziness and hurt my arm." she pointed to her bandaged arm, the bandage hidden under her uniform jacket. "It's pretty sore, and mom kept me home so I wouldn't strain it..."

"Oh, that sucks..." Tim said, and pointed to her short hair. "And you cut your hair." he said. She nodded.

"Yeah, I got bored with it being so long, so I chopped it." she said, which was an absolute lie. She loved her long hair. It was more painful watching her long locks fall to the floor than it was giving herself stitches.

"Hm. I like it short. Looks really nice." Tim said. Marie wondered why she had the sudden urge to punch him in the face. Instead, she smiled at him.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." she said.

"So...are you still coming over tonight?" he asked.

"Yup, of course." she said. "This Bruce guy...I've read a lot about him in the paper. Is he really as much of a horn-dog as the media lets on?" she asked, and Tim coughed in surprise at the question.

"Ugh, well, I wouldn't believe all that media stuff. Bruce is a really cool guy, honest." he said.

"I'll be the judge of that." she said, smirking. They reached the gate of the academy and walked in. Marie found it odd to not about her usual routine and to instead chat with someone as she walked the grounds. Especially with that someone being the most popular kid in school.

"So, what class do you have?" he asked.

"My homeroom class is English Three Honors." she said.

"Whoa, you really are a nerd." he said.

"Gee, thanks." she said. He grinned at her.

"I'm only joking, no worries." he said.

"It's fine. Just don't ask me to do your homework for you. That'll earn you a kick in the pants."

"Ah, no, Bruce would kill me if he found out I was getting other people to do my work."

"Strict, huh?" Marie asked, and Tim gave a small, knowing smile.

"Yeah, he can be. But...he's really caring, you know?"

"Yeah." Marie said, thinking about her mother. "Some parents will do anything for their kids' wellbeing."

"It's a shame a lot of them don't..." Tim said, his expression distant. Marie nudged him in the arm.

"Hey, your real dad mighta been a piece of crap, but at least you have Bruce now. My dad sucked too, running off a soon as I popped out. But my mom makes up for it. We have somebody, at least, to keep us on the right path." she said.

"Yeah, I suppose." he said. "I'd probably be doing some bad things right now if Bruce hadn't taken me in." he looked at her. "Of course, you'd be smart enough to stay away from all that anyway." he said.

Marie only smiled.

...

"Whoooooa..."

"Yeah, that's what I said." Timothy replied to Marie's expression of awe as they entered the Wayne mansion after school. It was enormous.

"Actually," a voice said from a stairway that lead to the second floor. Bruce Wayne walked down it, smiling. "I believe you freaked out for about thirty minutes, and Alfred had to threaten you in order to make you calm down..." he said. His voice was light, and kind. Marie was expecting something a little deeper, as she regarded his well-built stature. He was ripped, she could tell, and he was exactly as handsome as the papers suggested, with blue eyes and black hair. Timothy frowned at his comment.

"Shut up, no I didn't..." he muttered, crossing his arms. Bruce walked up to them.

"You must be Marie Booker. A pleasure to meet you." he said, holding his right hand to shake hers. She held up her left, and he quirked a brow before using his left hand to shake. "Left handed?" he asked.

"No, just temporarily crippled in my right arm." she said.

"Yeah, she ditzed out and hurt herself." Tim said.

"Really..." Bruce said, and Marie noticed his expression change to analytical. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"Monday, wasn't it?" Tim asked, and she nodded.

"Yup, silly me." she said, suddenly feeling nervous. Why was Bruce suddenly freaking her out?

"Interesting..." he said. "So, you're attending Gotham Academy on a scholarship then?" he asked, changing the subject to Marie's relief.

"Yes," she said, a scholarship that I believe came from the Wayne foundation. Thank you very much." she said.

"I'm happy that my money is being put to good use. You seem like a bright person. You have a good future ahead of you." he said, and Marie felt herself blush at the small compliment.

"Uh, thanks." she said.

"Of course. Now, I have some work to get to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Marie. I'll see you both at dinner." he said, and walked from the room, leaving the two kids alone.

"He's a real charmer." Marie said.

"Yeah, yeah..." Tim said. "Come on, we can study in the living room." he said, and lead her down a short hallway into another room, a large television greeting them. Tim set his things on one of the sofas and removed some papers from his backpack. "Could you help me with this?" he asked, and Marie shot him a glare.

"I told you I wasn't doing your homework-"

"No, no! It's not that, it's this." he said, showing her the papers. It was the Hamlet script. "You sounded really good at the tryouts, and I was wondering if you could give me pointers. I don't even know why they chose me over you." he said.

"Maybe because surrogate daddy donates a butt-load of money te the academy every year?" Marie repeated her mother's words.

"Really?" Tim said, looking down at the script. "Uncool..."

"It's whatever..." Marie lied. "I'll help you out. But don't waste my time..."

"I-I won't I swear." he said. Marie eyed him for a moment, sighed, and took the script.

"Alright, let's begin with memorization..."

...

"I see you two have been working hard..." Alfred said later on as the two teens walked into the dining room. He watched a tired Timothy practically crawl into his seat as Marie took her seat across from him.

"He's just a whiner..." she said.

"I've been reading and remembering all day..." Tim said dryly. "My brain hurts from all those words I shoved in there..."

"See?" Marie said, pointing to him as he rest his head against the table. "Total whiner."

"Shut up..."

"What have you both been up to?" Marie heard Bruce ask as he walked into the dining room.

"Reading..." Timothy growled.

"You could do with some reading." Bruce said, taking a seat at the end of the table.

"I can't even understand half the crap I'm reading." Tim said.

"Then go to No Fear Shakespeare, if you're so confused." Marie said.

"Nooooo, no more reading..."

"Sit up properly, Master Timothy..." Alfred said, bringing in a cart of food. He set a plate first in front of Bruce, then Marie. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the steak and mashed potatoes in front of her. It looked beautiful, and smelled even better than that. Alfred saw her face. "Is the meal not to your liking, Miss Booker?" he asked. She swiveled her head to look at him.

"I've never seen food so wonderful..." she said, and he smiled.

"Why thank you, Miss." he said, taking his own seat when he was done serving them.

"Dig in." Bruce said, and Marie had to give it her all to not scarf the meal down in three bites.

"Oh my gosh this is awesome..." she said after her fourth bite.

"Yeah, Alfred is like a master cook." Tim said, his mouth full. Marie grimaced.

"Swallow your food before you talk!" she scolded.

"It's no use, Miss." Alfred said as he cut his steak. "No matter what you say, he'll still eat like a savage..."

"Heeeey..." Tim pouted, his cheeks full.

"You look like a retarded chipmunk." Marie said. "Stop that."

"Is it Pick on Tim Day or something?" Tim asked after swallowing his food.

"You bring it on yourself." Bruce said with a smirk.

"So, Mister Wayne-" Marie began.

"Please, call me Bruce." he said.

"Right, Bruce. Anyway, what do you do really, for work?" she asked. He leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I manage my company, Wayne Industries. It's a lot of paperwork, which what I had to get back to when you arrived. Mostly I make deals, manage the accounts, and make sure all the numbers add up at the end of the day." he said. "It's a lot of work." he said. Marie nodded, knowing exactly how much work it was. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering. The papers suggest that all you do all day and night is party." she said, and he laughed.

"So I've heard. But no, not really. Making appearances is really just another part of my job. Keeping associates happy by showing up to their parties is all part of my responsibilities as a businessman."

"Interesting." Marie said.

"What about you, Marie?" he asked. "Any jobs you're interested in taking?"

"Well, I was interested in becoming a surgeon." she said.

"In a city like this, we could always use more surgeons." Bruce said, almost sadly.

"Or psychiatrists." Marie added.

"Does psychiatry interest you as well?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Definitely not. I wouldn't be able to handle the crazies here."

"Most people can't." he said.

"That's what Batman is here for, anyway..." Marie said, and Bruce took on an expression of interest.

"And what do you think of the vigilante?" he asked. She gripped her jeans as she thought of that night, seeing him dodge those bullets so easily.

"He's...ghostly. He scares me." she said truthfully.

"Why does he scare you?" Bruce asked, resting his chin on his hand.

"I don't know." Marie said. "It's just, someone like him, with all the danger he's put himself in, it seems like he should have been dead by now. How has he possibly been able to keep himself alive after all this time? It seems impossible, how much he's been able to cheat death. It scares me, thinking about that." she said. Bruce was quiet for a few moments as he seemed to think on her words.

"Maybe he's just lucky." he said.

"Or smart." Marie replied. "Incredibly smart."

"Or maybe he's just crazy." Bruce suggested, and Marie snorted.

"Yeah, that's a good possibility too." she said.

"Enough talk of vigilantes and crazy people." Tim said with a yawn. "It's boring."

"That's funny..." Marie said. "I specifically remember you obsessing over Batman in middle school, yammering on and on about how cool he was. You were a total fan-boy." she said, and grinned at the furious blush he produced at her comment.

"I was not." he said. She shrugged.

"Denial doesn't suit you, Tim." she said, tisking before taking another bite of her steak.

"I'll kill you..." he murmured. She stuck her tongue out at him as a response.

...

Later, Marie was driven home by Alfred, with Tim tagging along. Marie held a plastic wrap-covered plate of the food Alfred had cooked for her mother. She remembered thanking him over and over again as he made the plate. He was so kind as he told her to calm down.

When they reached her home, she stepped out of the car with the plate and she turned to say good-bye to the two, who wished her a good night before they drove off back toward the bustle of the city. Marie felt happy as she walked up the steps to her home, excited to have her mom try the steak.

"She's gonna cry when she eats this stuff." she said when she reached the door, digging in her pocket for her keys. She stopped, however, when she took sight of the door.

The locks had been broken.

"No..." she dropped the plate and it crashed into pieces on the porch as she shoved the door open and ran inside. The house was a shambles. The shelves were torn from the walls, her and her mothers belongings broken on the floor. "_Mom!_?" she shouted, panick sinking in.

"Marie-" her mother's voice was cut off. It came from the kitchen. Marie ran in, and saw her mother tied to one of the chairs. Her face was stained with tears. There was a dark bruise forming on her left cheek. She was gagged.

"Mom, what-"

"My, but the dead do walk the earth, don't they?" a familiar voice said. Marie felt a sharp pain in her side, and she fell to the ground. Her mother made a muffled cry, and Marie looked up to see her former employer standing over her with a baseball bat. "Hey, kiddo." he said, and hit her again. She coughed, and her mother began to sob.

"Bastard..." Marie choked out.

"There I was last night, actually feeling guilty," Mask said, and hit her again. "So, I call some of my boys to pick your sorry carcass up and bring you back for a proper burial." A blow to the stomach, and the wind was knocked from Marie. "But then I get a weird phone call." he went on. "One of my boys calls and says your body ain't there. All there is is footprints. Now how can a dead person just get up and walk off like that? I'll tell ya, kiddo. _They fucking can't!"_ One more blow, this time to the leg, and he dropped the bat. Marie's mother tried to shout with the gag in her mouth. "Shut, up, bitch." he told her. One of his lackeys walked into the kitchen, looking to Marie.

"Wow, ya did a number on her, boss." he said.

"Shut up and untie the woman." Mask said, and the lackey did as he was instructed. Marie's mother flung herself to her daughter as soon as she was unbound, ripping the gag from her mouth before picking her up in her lap.

"Marie, baby..." she cried. Marie sat up as the air once again filled her lungs.

"Fuck that hurts..." she hissed, her mother supporting her. Mask pulled his nine millimeter from its holster and pointed it at Marie.

"De ja vu, eh kid?" he said. "This time though, you don't have a vest to protect you..."

"Fine..." she said. "Just not my mom. She knows nothing about any of this. Just leave her..."

"Y'know, I've been thinking on that." he said, and kneeled down to become eye level with her. "I have all the money I need to get out of prison, even if you 'fess up all that info in your head. I can pay off lawyers, juries, judges. But you...you don't have shit. If you confessed, you'd be in prison as someone's little bitch for a long, long time..." his eyes narrowed with cruel glee. Marie was confused.

"Then why the fuck are you here?" she said. "If you know I can't do shit to you?"

"'Cuz you made a fool of me, Booker, and you know I don't like to be duped like that. Faking your death. Very unprofessional..."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Pay-back. That's all." he said. "I want to make you feel just as foolish as you made me feel, with interest. I want to make you miserable. Killing you would be too quick. So I'll let you live." he said.

"Oh, thank god..." Marie's mother sobbed. But Marie's brow only furrowed.

"What?" she murmured. He looked to her relieved mother.

"Sorry, mom." he said.

Before Marie could do anything, he pointed the gun at her mother and fired.


	5. Chapter 5

The shot was deafening, and a ringing filled Marie's ears as her eyes snapped to her mother. Her large blue eyes were wide with surprise, and the grip she had on her daughter began to slacken. Blood ran from the hole in her green shirt, making a large stain that became bigger and bigger as seconds passed. Marie grabbed her as she slumped to the floor. She tried to scream, but the ringing in her ears kept her from hearing her own voice as she begged her mother to hold on. She barely noticed Black Mask walk out of the kitchen with his thug. She didn't care at the moment. All she could see was the blood on her mother.

"Mom...mom!" Marie shook her, and her mother looked up at her. She tried to smile, but she coughed, and blood welled from her lips. She made an effort to reach up and touch Marie's face. Marie gripped her hand.

"Okay..." her mother's voice was like gravel. "Okay...s'okay...It..." her breathing became rapid then, and her body spasmed as Marie sobbed. And then, her mother's body suddenly went limp, her blue eyes dull, looking into nothing.

"No...ma...mama...mom..." Marie shook her, as if it would bring her back. But it did nothing, and her mother slid from her arms onto the floor. "Someone..." Marie whispered. "Help...help!" she tore her eyes from her mother and searched for the phone. She needed the paramedics. She stood up shakily and rummaged through the wreckage of the house, finally finding the home phone under some ripped out drawers. She dialed nine one one and put the phone to her ear. Someone answered.

"Nine one one, what is your-"

"My mom was shot and she isn't moving!" Marie shouted at the woman who answered.

"What is your location?"

"I'm at seven, six, six, six, Sycamore Avenue! Please hurry!"

"Police and paramedics are on their way. Is your mother breathing?" the operator asked.

"No, she's not."

"Please tell me what happened, Miss."

"She was shot!"

"Do you know the shooter?"

"The Black Mask!"

"...Are you quite sure?" The operator's tone changed suddenly, and Marie didn't like that. She threw the phone across the room and ran back to her mother. She kneeled down next to her, her knees becoming stained by the blood that was pooling on the floor. There was so much. Marie gripped her mother's hand again.

"They'll be here soon, mom. They'll be here soon. They'll fix you up... Promise. I promise..." she mumbled, mostly to herself.

It took two hours for the police to arrive, and Marie, who was close to passing out from the stress and pain, watched the officials file in, taking their time as they maneuvered through the house to where she was. By then, she knew it was far too late. Her mother's body was cold, and becoming stiff. They all stood around her looking over the scene. Marie's focus landed on the coffee in their hands. Steam still rose from it, indicating it was fresh, just purchased. One cop was halfway through a donut. What felt like a stone dropped in her stomach. They had taken their time, and didn't even try to hide the fact, their faces little more than interested as they shuffled around to make room for the paramedics.

"You're all...disgusting..." Marie's voice cracked as they lifted her up to lead to the ambulance. "Disgusting..." Once they had her in the ambulance, they went back with a stretcher to retrieve her mother, who came back strapped down and in a black body bag. They shoved the stretcher inside and slammed the doors shut. Marie heard the officers outside.

"Looks like a robbery gone wrong." one said.

"It's weird. I was told it was a vandalization."

"Yeah. Maybe it got mixed up in the system."

"Or maybe someone was payed off."

"Nah-"

"Oh c'mon. Shit like this happens all the time. The broad was probably workin' for a drug dealer. Drug dealer doesn't like her no more. Pop, pop. Pays off a mole in the station. Call gets reported too late or incorrectly. Dealer never gets caught 'cause evidence goes missin' or is tampered with. Either way, the world's probably better off without the broad, anyways. She was probably a crack-whore or some shit. The kid's probably no good, 'neither..."

"Ya think so?"

"I know so. I've seen this shit happen all the time. So long as you got the dough, you can do anything and get away with everything in this day and age. Just how it works."

"Damn, wish I was rich."

"Don't we all? Get in the car..."

Marie let the information soak in as the ambulance lurched forward, nearly knocking her out of her seat. The operator she'd spoken to had falsified the information. She'd been paid off. Marie hugged herself, sobbing dryly. She had no more tears to shed, and her voice was gone from screaming.

"Why..." was all she could say, over and over again as she and her mother's body were driven down the cracked road and away from their home. Black Mask had certainly accomplished what he'd sought to do, and Marie was left broken in every way she could imagine.

...

"Marie?!" Marie looked up to see Timothy rushing towards her hospital bed. She had bandages all over her, and the light of the room hurt her tired eyes. Everything was so white. She hated it.

"Tim..." she muttered. "What..." He looked down at her with intense worry. Bruce followed him inside, his eyes showing concern and anger.

"Oh, god, Marie..." Tim said when he reached her. He grabbed her hand. "Are you alright? Of course not, why did I ask that? Shit." he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Your mom...is she..." Marie nodded slowly, and turned her head away from him to hide the tears wanting to escape. "I'm sorry..." he said.

"Don't be. You're not the reason she's dead..." Marie whispered.

"Do you know who did it, Marie?" Bruce asked, and Marie turned to look at him. She remembered what Mask had said, that it didn't matter what she said. He'd still get off scot free. She shook her head.

"No..." she said. "No...I don't..." she felt like he was analyzing her again, but she didn't care. She looked out the window to the night sky. The lights of the city blocked the stars.  
I used to not believe in God..." she said. "Now I can't stop praying...for her..." her body began to shake as she cried. "She did nothing wrong. She didn't deserve that."

"Neither of you did..." Tim said.

"I deserve a bullet in the belly..." she said, gritting her teeth. "I couldn't protect her-"

"Stop saying that, now..." Bruce said, making her freeze. His voice was so stern, almost angry. "You don't deserve any of that." he walked to her side, and rest his hand on her head. "You're stronger than this, remember that."

"What if you're wrong?" she asked.

"I'm never wrong." he said. The corners of her mouth pulled up to a grim smile.

"You seem so sure of yourself..."

...

Three weeks later, Marie was sitting up in her hospital bed, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the rough fabric of her blanket. It was silent in the room, even as the doctor spoke to her. She looked at his mouth as it moved, but it seemed that not sound came out. What was he saying? She tried to focus. These medications were messing with her...

"...fter tomorrow, you'll be sent to the East Side Orphanage." the doctor said.

"What?" Marie asked.

"I said, the day after tomorrow, you'll be sent to the East Side Orphanage. It's on the other side of the city." he said. Marie shifted in the bed.

"C-can't I just...go home?" she muttered. The doctor gave a laugh.

"You're only fourteen, hardly old enough to live on your own. We were able to retrieve some clothes from your home. They're on the chair. You can wear them when you leave." he went to leave then, but Marie stopped him.

"What's tomorrow?" she asked. "I mean the date."

"Tomorrow will be the twenty-fourth." he said, and left. Marie blinked, and slumped into her pillow. Tomorrow was her mother's birthday.

"Huh..." she huffed, looking down at her bandaged arms. There was significantly less bandages than she'd had originally, and she was able to walk again without the bruises bothering her so much. She looked at the wall clock. It was nearly nine p.m. So, they'd send her to an orphanage, huh? Her gaze drifted down to the clothes on the chair.

She didn't think so...

...

Two hours later, Marie was walking through the city. Her sweatshirt covered her bandages, and her hood was up, hiding her face so no one would recognize her. No doubt there was a search party looking for her. Or maybe there wasn't. She didn't care.

As the meds wore off more and more, she began to feel the dull pain of her bruises again, but at least her mind was clearing up, and she was able to think normally again. The events of that night ran through her mind over and over again. She thought of her mother's sightless eyes staring up, never moving. Marie found that what used to be grief was forming into intense anger, at herself and everyone else involved. The cops, the operator, Black Mask. She was especially angered by Gotham's so-called "finest". They let it all happen without protest or question. And now, Marie's mother was dead and Black Mask was free. The emotions that were welling up within Marie were almost unbearable. It was chaotic. She stumbled, and leaned against a brick wall for support. A neon sign that read "Nitro" shined over her, and she could smell the alcohol and hear the loud music through the entrance of the club. Laughing women in skimpy outfits walked in. Marie shook her head, and went to lift herself from the wall, when she caught sight of a familiar black car parked outside the club.

"Small world..." she muttered, staring at Black Mask's vehicle. She wondered if he'd have her killed if he saw her, and figured the chances of exactly that were high. With that thought in her mind, she walked to the entrance, and pushed the door open. "Que sera, sera..."

...

A block away from the club, a person walked casually on the telephone wires. He huffed, the lids of his black eyes lowering.

"I'm bored..." he mumbled, cracking his neck and removing stray strands of his black hair from his face. His orange cat mewed at him from the top of a telephone pole, and he frowned. "We did that yesterday, you're not helping...stupid cat." he said, and he viewed the city under him, cars passing below and people walking by with their minds on nothing but last minute sales before Christmas. The figure's frown deepened into a pout. "All that happened this week is two old ladies fought over a Tickle-Me Elmo. This sucks..." he walked over to his cat and leaned on the telephone pole. "Where's the mayhem, my darling Teekl?" he asked. The cat made a throaty noise, and he sighed. "This town is usually so lively. There used to be so many delightfully destructive events to witness. Now there's nothi-"

The figure stopped himself when he felt a sudden pull. It was like a small string in his mind that suddenly went taught, and he turned his head in the direction the tug came from. His dark eyes landed on the club, and he smiled. Something wonderfully awful was brewing there, he could feel the intensity growing ever higher. A single flame of absolute chaos, growing bit by bit, needing his guidance to turn into a full-on fire.

"I think, Teekle dearest, that something promising may have just come up..."

...

In the club, Black Mask lounged in one of the booths, flanked by two lovely blonde women. The multicolored strobe lights lit the area in flashes bright enough to cause seizures, and the dance music made it near impossible to hear anyone more than ten feet away from you. The level of the bass was high enough to knock someone out of their seat, should the right song come up.

"I love this place." one of the girls with Mask said. "It's so chill, you know?"

"Shut up..." he told her, and she gave him a look before returning to inspecting her nails. Mask stared out into the crowd of dancing people, most of them years younger than he was. He noticed a handsome young man dancing in the center with some girls, and Mask tapped the black mask that would cover his face for the rest of his life. _He_ used to look good. But now...

He snapped his fingers and one of his lackeys walked up to him.

"Yeah, boss?"

"See that kid over there?" Mask asked, pointing to the man in the crowd.

"Yeah."

"He's bothering me. Punch him and throw him out..."

"Alright boss." his lackey said, cracking his knuckles as he stepped into the crowd to do as he was told. Mask smiled.

"It's good bein' me..." he said.

"Yeah, I bet it is..." Mask heard a voice say. He looked to his left to see Marie walking toward him, a bottle of cola in her hand. One of his guards blocked her.

"Let her through." Mask said, and smiled. "She won't do nothin'. She's a smart kid."

Marie gave the guard a look before sitting across from her former employer.

"How's it been?" she asked. Mask smirked, and looked to the two blondes flanking him.

"Go away." he said. Each girl huffed as they gathered their things and made their way from the table. Marie gave an expression of amusement.

"Polite as ever..." she said. Mask rest both of his arms on the back of his seat.

"Don't need to be polite when you got money, kid." he said. "The girls come racin' back no matter how you treat 'em."

"Such the gentleman."

"You're still supposed to be in the hospital, aren't ya?" he asked.

"Why would you know that?"

"I like to keep tabs on people, just in case they get stupid ideas..."

"Like ratting you out? You already proved that no one would believe me, and even if they did they wouldn't do anything knowing they'd be rewarded for their silence." Marie said, setting her coke down and leaning her elbows on the table. "Besides, I'm a smart kid remember? Why would I have any stupid ideas?"

"I guess you're right." he said. "So why the hell are you here? What do you want?"

"I want you to kill me." she said, and Mask froze. She looked into his eyes. "You're not the kind of person to leave a job unfinished." she said. "And there's no one to miss me when I'm gone." Mask blinked, and laughed.

"Damn kid, I thought you were smart!" he yelled, smacking the table once as he attempted to control the laughter. "Willin' to die just because you had a rough day!" finally he stopped laughing, and slowly composed himself. " No, I'm not gonna kill you. It'd be too easy, not to mention pathetic. C'mon, whaddya really want, besides a bullet between the eyes?" Marie's eyes landed on her cola bottle, and she watched the condensation slide down and pool around the bottom.

"I don't really know, actually, which is weird, since I used to know exactly what I wanted." she said, and sighed. "But then you fucked up everything when you killed my mother." when she said it, Marie felt another swell of anger, only this time it was more intense, which surprised her. She gripped her hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

Off in a dark corner, where the lights seemed unable to reach, someone smiled.

"Well," Mask said. "I'm so sorry to hear that, truly." he scratched his head. "But, at least you have your brain still. I was nice enough to not blow 'em out of your head, you see. And you're still attending that academy." He leaned forward. "Here's where I'm gettin' at. Get an education, and get the hell outta this town. Go live your life instead of sitting here and moping like a damn brat. That's a damn good piece of advice if you ask me."

"I-"

"Not that?" Mask asked. "Alright, how 'bout money?" Marie looked at him them, surprise on her face. He smiled. "Oh, do I see interest?" he asked, and pulled out his wallet. He took out a number of bills and tossed them down in front of her. "There. Ten grand. Take it and go before I change my mind." Marie's shaking hand touched the bills.

"This is the money you owed me." she muttered, and he nodded.

"Think of it as a going away gift. Now please, go away." he said. Marie shook her head, not noticing the tears falling down her face.

"Now?" she asked. "Now you're giving me the money? After all that shit you put me through just to keep me from getting it? Why didn't you give it to me in the first place?" Mask shrugged.

"Welcome to the real world, kid. It's full of disappointment. You'll have fun here."

...

In the corner, the figure's smile grew.

"Oh, this is perfect..." he mumbled, watching her as she stared at the cash on the table. The orange cat mewled at his feet, and he hissed for her to be quiet. "Of course she hasn't done anything yet, you idiot. The poor thing is an emotional wreck. She needs _guidance_..." his eyes turned a blood red, and he melted into the shadows.

...

Marie didn't know what to think. The money she worked a year for, and lost her mother over, was in front of her. She could take it and follow Mask's advice. She could leave now, and get out of this city. She could live her life.

An image of her mother's corpse flashed in her mind, and she slammed her eyes shut. No. She couldn't take this money. Not after what the masked bastard did.

'You should kill him...' a small voice in her head whispered. 'He did so much to you. You should take that bottle and break it against his skull. Dig the shards into his skin. Let him bleeeeeed...'

Marie blinked and touched her forehead. What was she thinking? She looked up at Mask. He was talking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. There was a ringing in her ears that drowned out everything, even the music. She saw something behind Mask, and her eyes widened. Her mother stood there, her sightless eyes showing grief.

"Ma..." she went to say, but her mother's apparition held her finger to her mouth to silence her. Her mother pointed at Mask then, and swept her finger over her throat with a smile.

'See?' the voice returned, and Marie froze. 'Even she wants it to be done. Kill him. You can do it. You _want _to do it. The bottle is already in your hand...' Marie looked down at her hand, the neck of the cola bottle grasped in it firmly. She gasped. 'Now all you have to do is strike...' the voice went on. 'Do it...'

"And hell," Mask said as he looked over at the crowd, not noticing Marie in the slightest. "Without that baggage of a woman to take care of, you can do a lot with that bit of cash, can't you?" he said, and laughed. "I mighta done you a favor!"

Something small snapped in Marie's mind, and she stood.

"I think I know what I want now..." she muttered, and he glanced at her.

"The cash not enough, you greedy brat?" he asked.

"You said I couldn't do anything to you, because I have nothing." she replied. "You're right, I have nothing. You took away everything from me. My mother, my home...and now I think you've taken my sanity. I don't think colleges take too well to nut-cases..." she lifted the bottle a little, and poured the remaining liquid on the floor. "But now that I have nothing, that means there's nothing to hold me back from having any _stupid ideas._.." Mask looked at her fully now, his eyes hooded.

"You're not scaring me kid, if that's what you're trying to do..." he said evenly. "I highly suggest you leave before I decide to stop being so nice..." Marie almost did as he said, but something kept her from letting go of the bottle.

"All you can do is kill me." she said.

"I can do much worse than that..."

"I see..." Marie said, and slackened her grip on the bottle. She looked up at him. "Then show me." before he could react, Marie smashed the bottom of the bottle against the edge of the table and slashed out at Mask, cutting through his suit jacket and raking against his chest. He shouted before she stabbed him in the shoulder. She heard someone laughing loudly near her, and her anger only rose into an intense rage as she continued to slash at Mask.

A large hand grabbed her shoulder and tossed her backwards. She steadied herself before she could fall and lunged at Mask again. His guard picked her up and threw her this time. Her head cracked against the middle of the dance floor, and everything faded to black as the crowd around her gasped in shock.

As the darkness took her, all she could hear was that hysteric laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

Marie felt like she was sinking. She couldn't open her eyes, all there was was the dark that surrounded her. She drifted down farther into the void, her mind blank, her emotions completely gone. It was almost peaceful, this numbing state she was experiencing.

Something brushed against her, and she twitched, wondering mildly what it was. It came back, and bumped into her side. She tried to move away from it, but it stayed against her. A glint of agitation bubbled inside her. Surely there was enough room in this dark eternity for whatever this was to move away from her. She tried to move again, but this time the entity wrapped itself around her. Surprised, she fought to open her eyes, and managed to crack them open as whatever was wrapped around her brought her roughly upward. She gasped at the red eyes that glinted in front of her, and she struggled to get free, tearing something away from it in her hand as she did.

She heard a light growl, and the creature let her go.

...

Marie woke up startled, the feeling of being dropped into her bed awaking her. She checked her hand where she'd held onto that something she'd ripped from the creature, but all there was was a tingling feeling. A sudden pounding in her head made her groan, and she touched it gingerly, feeling bandages. Her eyes opened fully, and the light of the hospital room making them water painfully.

"Ooooh, you're _awake._.." a slightly familiar voice said, and Marie turned her head to see a boy in black clothing sitting at a chair near her bed. He smiled at her as he stroked an orange cat that lay in his lap. "Well," he went on. "You're not really awake yet, not really."

"What..." Marie muttered in confusion. Her voice cracked from lack of use, and she coughed.

"You're in a coma!" he said gleefully. "You're in the closest mental state that any human can get to Limbo. Isn't that fun?" he asked. Marie's eyes knitted, still confused. She was in a coma? Who was this person? She remembered the voice that had spoken to her at the club that night. It was this person's voice, she realized, and she remembered hitting her head hard against the dance floor. Was that the reason for this coma? And how was this person able to speak to her if she was in one?

"Are you...an angel, or something?" she asked quietly. The figure's black eyes widened greatly before he burst into a fit of laughter. The cat on his lap hissed and jumped to the floor as he rolled in his seat, gripping his sides. The laughing finally got on Marie's nerves, and she frowned. "What's so funny..," she mumbled. The person finally decided to control himself, and he wiped away gleeful tears as he adjusted his tie.

"What's funny," he said as the laughter died down to giggles. "Is that you thought of me of all people to be an angel..." Marie blinked, and looked up to the ceiling.

"I'm so confused..." she said.

"What's there to be confused about?" he asked.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Klarion, the Witch Boy." he replied. "And this," he gestured to the orange cat, "is my dear cat Teekl. Don't be fooled by her mild appearance. She can be quite deadly when ordered..."

"The Witch Boy?" Marie asked. "What are you, a Super?" she asked. He cocked his head to the side.

"Super as in a pursuer of Justice and enemy of evil? No." He rest his chin on his slender hand. "I'm the evil that everyone goes after." Marie regarded him. He was a few years younger than she was, she could tell, and he seemed scrawny. He didn't look at all menacing or evil. He actually looked a bit like a brat.

"You don't seem so threatening as you claim..." she said. "Just saying..."

"Is that any way to treat someone who's been searching a whole year for your soul?" Klarion asked. Marie stilled.

"A whole...year?" she asked, and he nodded. She huffed. "You're crazy, guy..." she said. Klarion gave a look of agitation, and he snapped his fingers. At first Marie didn't notice anything, but then she glanced at his cat. She slowly sat up as se noticed it become larger, it's limbs lengthening and its head changing shape. Her mouth was agape by the time it was done shifting into the humanoid it had become. Teekl looked at Marie, and bared her fangs at her, hissing loudly. Klarion gave a sly smile at Marie, knowing he'd gotten his point across.

"Heel, Teekl." he said, and the humanoid morphed back into it's original form. Marie was shaking now, unbelieving of what she had just seen.

"I'm dreaming...or I've gone insane..." she said shakily. "I've gone nuts. I'm sitting in a cell in Arkham right now..."

"No, not nuts. Just in a coma." Klarion said, regaining her attention.

"What did you do?" she asked. "Did you pull me out of that void? Were you that..._thing_?"

"Ouch, so cruel..." Klarion said, feigning hurt. "That was my Horigal state. Rather nasty to look at but effective when sniffing around for souls in Limbo. You were nearly a lost case when I found you. You're lucky I brought you back before your soul was twisted into one of the disgusting monsters that reside there, then I never would have been able to fix anything."

"Why did you bring me back?" Marie asked.

"Simple." Klarion said. "Because I was bored, and frankly I haven't had so much fun with a girl since Abigail Williams." He grinned, and Marie slumped against the headboard.

"Great. I've become nothing more than entertainment for some little kid."

"Hey, I might appear young, but I'm actually waaay older than you." he said, crossing his arms. "Don't go telling everyone that."

"I don't think I'll be telling anyone about any of this..." Marie said, mostly to herself. "You were talking about souls..." she asked, and he nodded. "Is there a God?" the smile he gave was disturbing.

"Do you want the truth, or what you want to hear?" he asked.

"So he doesn't exist?" she said.

"Are you sure that's not what you wanted to hear?" he asked. "Are you sure you want God to exist, what with all of the evil you've committed, and the people you've hurt, just for a bit of cash that you never got anyway?"

"Then he does?"

"I never said that..." Klarion said, stretching. "The whole subject of God bores me. I'll tell you for sure that there is good and evil, and that there is definitely a Hell, though it varies for each person. But I can't and won't say that there is some deity that watches over everything we do. But if there is, then he's sicker than the worst criminal isn't he, allowing all of this chaos to continue without so much as answering a child's smallest prayer. That's why I do what I want, knowing that if God really existed and really cared, I would have been stopped years ago. Are you following?"

"I guess..." Marie said.

"Good." Klarion responded. "Now, even then I hate it, we have business to discuss." he said.

"What kind of business?" Marie asked.

"Well," Klarion leaned back into his seat, "I _did _bring you back from living the rest of your life as a vegetable on life support..." he said. "Payment will be in order."

"What do you want?" Marie asked.

_"Weeeell,_" he tapped his chin in thought. "You did provide me entertainment when I thought I was going to die from boredom, so I won't make the price steep." he thought for another moment, and his eyes lit up with an idea.

"You'll just have to owe me a favor." he said.

"What kind of favor..." Marie asked, her eyes narrowing. He shrugged with an innocence she couldn't believe.

"Just any old favor, when I feel like making one. You could be fifty before I think of something. Maybe I'll even forget about you, who knows?" he said, and stood up. "You'll be waking up any minute now, so I'll be leaving." he made his way to the door, Teekl following close behind. "Oh, and Marie?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Try not to be so depressing. This is a second chance at life. Take advantage of it while you can, hmm? Have fun, rob banks, blow up buildings. Go nuts." he said, and was out the door before Marie could say anything back to him. She looked down at her hands.

"Go nuts...huh..." her eyes became heavy then, and they slowly began to close. As soon as they shut though, she opened them again, and was greeted by the same hospital room she was in before. The only difference was the person in there with her, sleeping on the small couch in the corner. It was Timothy.

"Ti-" she coughed, her voice once again raw from lack of use. She touched her throat, and brushed her hair. It was longer than it was when she went to that club. Much longer, she noticed, as she looked down to see the ends reached the middle of her upper arm. Had it really been a year? She looked over to Timothy, and noticed he was taller, a little more built. His face was more angular, showing some maturity. "Shit..." she croaked, and cleared her throat. "Timothy!" she managed to yell without her voice breaking, and the sleeping teen jolted awake.

"Who? Whozzat? Is visiting hours over?" he asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room for a doctor, and froze when his eyes landed on Marie as she looked right back at him. "Marie?" he asked, then jumped to his feet and ran to the door, opening it and calling for a doctor. He walked back toward her then, gripping her hand and smiling. "I told them you'd pull through!" he said as a doctor rushed inside.

"Mr. Wayne, what is the reason for...oh my god..." the doctor dropped their clipboard to the floor and reached for a phone, quickly dialing a number and bringing it to their ear.

"How long have I been out?" Marie asked Tim. He hesitated.

"Uh...over a year...It's February..." he said, and Marie nodded. "You're taking that better than I thought you would." he said, and she smiled.

"Well, I'll probably break down into a mess later, but right now I just want to get the hell out of this hospital..."

"I can understand that." he said. "No one thought you were going to make it. After you hit the ground, Mask shot you," he tapped a spot on the side of her head, "right there. You're lucky you're alive right now, not to mention even talking normally. It's a friggin' miracle." Marie touched where he had tapped, and felt a small scar. So Mask had shot her, huh? A surge of anger filled her, and her brows furrowed.

"Where is he?" she asked. He was quiet. "Where is Black Mask?" she asked again, with more force.

"He's not in prison..." Timothy said, and sighed. "Look, that night at the club, you attacked him first, so he was saying what he did to you was self defense. Obviously, the shot to the head after you were knocked out didn't apply, and he was facing charges. He was wanting to charge you as well, and you were nearly sentenced to Arkham Asylum once you recovered, but Bruce intervened. He said he'd have the charges against Mask dropped so long as the charges against you were dropped as well. Mask agreed, and he's still out there."

"Are you serious?" Marie couldn't believe it.

"Mask would have been out of Black Gate in a matter of hours anyway, with his influence. We were only focusing on your freedom and safety when we made that deal." Tim said.

"You and Mr. Wayne did so much for me, Tim. I don't deserve such luck." She held his hand as tightly as she could. "Thank you so much..."

"I'm just happy you're awake again. It's kind of boring having one sided conversations." he said. Marie managed a small laugh. "I have to call Bruce. He's gonna go nuts when he hears this." Timothy pulled back and grabbed his phone from his pocket as more doctors walked in and checked Marie's vitals. Marie was registering what Timothy had said.

"Go nuts..." she murmured. That was the second time she'd heard that today.

...

"So, I'm sixteen now?" Marie asked as she was being lead outside Gotham General Hospital the next day. She was in a wheelchair, and Timothy pushed her towards the limo waiting for them. "I missed two Januaries." Marie continued. "And my birthday is January fifteenth. So I'm sixteen, right?"

"Uh, yeah. That's right." Tim said. "And I'll be seventeen this coming June."

"Jeez..." Marie whistled. "I have a lot of new music to catch up to..." she said.

"That reminds me." Timothy said, and he placed a small pink gift bag on her lap, and she picked it up.

"What's this?"

"A welcome back to the real world present." he said as Marie pulled out the item hidden inside. It was an I-Pod.

"Holy shit." Marie said, tapping the screen and watching the device come to life.

"Thought you'd like it." he said. "And I stuffed it with all the hippy music I could find, and some other stuff I thought you'd like."

"Timothy, you didn't have to-"

"I _wanted _to, Marie." Tim said, cutting her off. "It's what worried friends do when they get excited, ha." the reached the limo, and Marie stood up from her wheelchair, even as Timothy argued.

"I can handle climbing into a car, Tim." she said as she sat down on the leather seats.

"You haven't walked in over a year."

"Which is all the more reason to practice, isn't it?" she said. Timothy shook his head as he folded the wheelchair and placed it in the trunk. As he settled into the limo, Alfred up front revved it to life and soon they were all headed to Wayne Manor, where Bruce had informed Marie she'd be staying at least until she was better.

"Then, after that, you're welcome to stay or go. Whichever you prefer." Tim said. "But we'd rather you stay. You have a lot to catch up on, and we'd like to make sure your safe from, well, you know..."

"You think Black Mask might come after me?" Marie asked.

"I'm not saying that." Tim said. "But there's always a possibility."

"Stop that talk at once, Master Timothy." Alfred said from the front as he drove. "Miss Booker needs to rest, and bringing up old enemies won't help in that process."

"It's okay, Alfred." Marie said. "I'm done resting anyway." they neared a light just as it turned yellow, and Alfred began to slow down. Marie leaned forward. "You should go faster so we don't miss it." she said, and he chuckled.

"Safety first, Miss Booker."

"Ah, no fun." she said, and slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms childishly. She blinked, and sat up. Where did that come from?

"You're just ready to do all sorts of things, aren't you?" Tim said with a smirk. "Is 'get into car accident' first on your agenda?"

"Heheh. Yeah." Marie said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Just a little adrenaline rush, I guess."

"I wouldn't blame you. Being cooped up in your brain for a year must get boring." Tim said, and Marie socked him in the arm.

"No making fun." she said.

...

"This will be your room, Miss Booker." Alfred said a while after they arrived to the manor. They were on the second floor, and he opened one of the mahogany doors to reveal the largest bedroom Marie had ever seen. The walls were a light violet, and the large bed had a floral scheme to its covers. An oak dresser and wardrobe was against left wall alongside a vanity, and two french doors opened to a small balcony outside.

"Uh..."

"The white door over there leads to your bathroom, and clothes are located in the dresser. They may be too large, but we'll get you a proper wardrobe this coming weekend." Alfred said.

"Woooow..." Marie walked inside, almost afraid to touch anything and ruin its perfection. "I can never repay you for your kindness..." she muttered.

"Your comfort is all we ask for." Alfred said. "At three o'clock, Master Wayne has requested you visit him in his study. I'll leave you here to freshen up until then." he said, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Marie walked over to the vanity and took in her matured features. So much had changed in two years, and it seemed like no time had passed at all. Sighing, she checked the wall clock. She had three hours before she'd go see Bruce. She looked at the large bed.

The last thing she wanted to do was sleep.

...

"Are you adjusting well here so far, Marie?" Bruce asked later as she took her seat in front of his desk. Books covered the walls around them, and a large computer sat on his desk. A grandfather clock was in the back corner, and seemed older than half the house.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here." she said.

"It's my pleasure, I assure you. I should be thanking you for waking up and putting Tim's mind to rest. He's been on edge ever since we received that phone call. In was a hard night for him..."

"He never told me..." Marie said, looking down at her lap.

"He'd be pretty upset if you found out." Bruce said. "He likes to act tough, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Marie said, smiling. "But he can't hide how much he cares."

"No matter how much he tries." Bruce said. "Now as for why I called you here, besides to welcome you."

"Uh-oh. I knew there was a catch." Marie said, slumping her shoulders slightly.

"Not a catch, just one request." Bruce said. "I don't want you going after Black Mask." Marie's jaw set, and he sighed at her silence.

"I know what it's like, having a loved one gunned down in front of you. You feel helpless, like you should have been able to do more. But what you need to realize is there was nothing you actually _could_ do."

"There was a lot I could do..." Marie said sadly, but Bruce shook his head.

"You'll realize one day. This guilt takes time to fade."

"It'll never fade..."

"It seems so, yes."

"It won't!" The sudden exclamation came from Marie's lips before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth in surprise. What was that sudden anger? Bruce was silent, and she took a deep breath. "You may not have been able to do anything, Bruce, but I really would have." She wrung her hands, biting her lip. "I...was working for Black Mask..." Bruce stilled then, and Marie was sure right then that she wouldn't be in his house for much longer. "I'll pack my things and be out of your hair soon. I'm sorry-"

"Don't move." Bruce said. Marie paused.

"Are you going to call the cops?" she asked.

"No." he said. Another surprise. "I want to hear your side of the story before we make any judgments here." he leaned back in his seat, and waited for her to begin.

"Uh...okay..." Marie said, and leaned forward. "It started...I guess two years ago..."

...

By the time she had finished, Bruce had a stern look. But it was caring. She swallowed, waiting for him t finally speak.

"Marie..." he said. "You've aided in many...many...criminal acts. Though I understand your intentions for the money were pure, you still committed countless crimes to attain it..."

"Yeah..." Marie said. "_Now _are you going to call the police." Bruce shook his head.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I believe in second chances." he said. "I believe that we all make mistakes, and should sometimes be given the opportunity to prove ourselves. I want you to promise me some things though." he said. "I want you to put the past behind you. Don't dwell on that time. Cherish your mother's memory instead of reliving that horrific event. And especially..." he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. "do _not_ go after Black Mask. Understood?" he asked. Marie hesitated before nodding.

"I'll...do my best..." she said.

"I know you will. You're a good kid, Marie. Don't throw your life away over trash like Mask." he said, and she nodded. "Now that that's done, I want to take you somewhere this weekend." Bruce said.

"Where?"

"Your mother's grave. We'll go there this Sunday so you can pay your respects. I understand you never got the chance. We can take you there any time you wish afterward, as well." he said.

"Oh...thank..." Marie was in tears then, and quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Bruce handed her a tissue, and she took it.

"Don't be afraid to cry here. If you ever need someone to talk to, we're all here for you. We've each had our share of grievances, and know what it's like. Don't hesitate to ask our help if you need it."

"Thank you, Bruce..." Marie said. "Thank you so much..."

...

The next Sunday, Marie walked down the graveled path of the graveyard just behind Bruce and Timothy as they made their way to her mother's grave. She was dressed in a black blouse and skirt, and her hair was up in a neat bun. She held a single rose in her hand. A suggestion of Bruce. Once they reached the grave, Marie noticed plowers in font of it.

"I bring her flowers every week..." Timothy said.

"She would have loved you." Marie said quietly, and walked up to the headstone. It was simple, reaching up to her hip. A stone carnation was carved into it as well as an epitaph reading, 'Here Lies Sherry Booker, Beloved Mother'.

"I didn't know what else to have put there." Bruce said.

"It's perfect, thank you." Marie said, and knelt down. She placed the rose on the grass. "I'm with the Waynes now, mom..." she whispered. "Can you believe it? They're giving me a second chance. I'll be good, I promise. No more crime. No more Black Mask. I'm gonna be a surgeon just like I said I would. So don't worry about me, okay? Don't worry. I'll see you another time. I love you." she stood up again and straightened out her skirt before wiping away any stray tears. "I can go now."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. I'll be coming back here a lot, though." she said, and lead them away from the grave and back down the graveled path.

They didn't notice, as they moved away, the rose that was once a brilliant red, begin to wilt, until all that remained was a brown and shriveled memory.

Somewhere, someone chuckled darkly...


End file.
